


Guardian of Souls

by daniko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, and a whole bunch of other dead people, or death!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps saying that one gets to spend Afterlife with one's Family would be more accurate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian of Souls

Harry Potter lived a long life. He never married, never had children, but his friendship with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger held true for over one hundred years. He never stopped being a honorary Weasley and he was as much of an Uncle to Molly and Arthur's grandchildren as any of their actual children. He was never alone: he had his friends . . . and he had his students. No one was surprised when Harry Potter elected to stay at Hogwarts and teach. No one so much as blinked when Hogwarts chose him as Headmaster. Everyone cried when he passed away peacefully in his sleep.

His biography said he had been "an old soul in a child's body" and Ron laughed so hard he cried and then continued to cry because it was the first time in one hundred and three years that Ron Weasley was without Harry Potter. Hermione didn't cry, because she knew of Life and Death from the depths of the Department of Mysteries and she knew Harry might not have been alone, but he had been lonely. She knew of one other who had been as lonely and she didn't think it was a coincidence how much either of these men's lives had been a mirror of one another. Hermione could see further than most and she felt deep in her heart that Harry's true existence had just begun.

*

Harry Potter woke with sunlight on his face and wind blowing through the curtains on the window. He lay on a low iron king-sized bed in what seemed to be the master bedroom of a country cottage. More surprising than the unfamiliar surroundings, however, was that Harry felt . . . content. His heart was filled with warmth and happiness, although he did not know why. 

Curiously, Harry explored the bedroom – his clothes were in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, mixed with someone else's; there were doilies, homemade comforters and pillows and worn wooden furniture; two pairs of grey slippers and two robes, one red and one purple, hung in the bedposts. When he passed by the vanity, he noticed his face in the mirror, his green eyes and perpetually messy black hair; then his hands and knees. Harry knew something was not quite right, but it didn't matter, because Harry felt in his bones that he was, finally, exactly where he was supposed to be.

Suddenly, he became aware of laughter in the distance, a laughter that sounded familiar and filled him with such joy he simply had to go look for its source.

Harry crossed the house as though he had lived here all his life, even if he had no memory of it, and found the front door at once. Outside the house, the fields extended vastly in every direction until they found a low hedge, which seemed to separate different estates. Under a willow tree on the edge of his property, Harry noticed some people enjoying the afternoon breeze.

As he approached, he noticed that four of them were children, playing tag in the shade, and whose laughter had reached Harry in the house. Particularly the redhead girl's laughter sounded as pure as a water stream from deep within the mountains. The two boys trying to catch her would seem almost alike, with dark hair and mischief in their eyes, if not by the sheer difference in their profiles, as one was slender as a willow, with sharp, patrician features, and the other was stocky with soft edges and a potato nose. Looking at them felt like coming home, as if these three children were supposed to be his. There was fondness for the blonde girl, too, as if Harry was meant to love her, but hadn't yet got there. And sitting by the tree were the remaining four figures: a sullen teenager dressed all in black, with a big nose buried in a heavy tome; a man in his forties, smiling kindly at Harry; a scowling young man and . . . a redhead man with startling blue eyes and a perfectly straight nose—although Harry could not yet tell why he expected it to be crooked.

Suddenly Harry knew his name. "Albus Dumbledore."

Albus laughed from deep within his soul and Harry thought he could almost cry at the lightness in the man's expression, as it never had been there while he was alive.

"Harry Potter," he replied. "Long we've awaited you!"

Harry frowned in confusion. Long had they . . . oh! The school, his students; a long, lonely life waiting for the day where he would see his family again. "I was chosen as Headmaster after Minerva," Harry blurted out, not quite sure why that was important.

Albus tittered. "I know. I watch occasionally."

The sullen teenager snorted. "If by ocasionally you mean religiously, then absolutely," he said.

"Severus," admonished the remaining man, in a voice both so reproachful and so understanding that Harry took no time at all placing his face.

"Remus Lupin," Harry said. And to the teenager, "Severus Snape." The other man was also familiar. "Aberforth Dumbledore." He looked at the children. "Lily, James, Sirius and Ariana."

Remus and Albus were smiling at him, but Severus looked positively exasperated. "Good to see some things never change, Potter. You were always one to state the obvious."

Albus poked him on the side with a long bony finger. "Enough, Severus," he scolded. To Harry he said, "Excuse him, he doesn't deal well with change." He smiled. "We have indeed been waiting. The children are particularly fond of watching the Sunday dinners at the Burrow."

Harry froze. "Oh Merlin! Ron and Hermione! Are they okay?"

Albus smiled fondly. "We can take a peek later," he suggested. Then, his smile turned mischievous. "Or right now, if you prefer. I had thought to explain things, but you never reacted very well to my explanations."

Harry became a bit flustered and could not for the life of him tell why. "Later is perfect, actually. If that's okay with you, er—sir?"

Albus smiled sincerely. "All I've got is time—and Albus would suit me just fine, my dear Harry."

Severus pretended to gag, until Remus cuffed him in the back of the head, with a mild glare.

If anything, his behaviour only seemed to amuse Albus further. Harry thought it was kind of adorable, really, how happy they all looked; and it filled Harry with such joy he felt a bit overwhelmed.

As if on cue, to bring Harry back to Earth so to speak, a piercing cry sounded in the yard. Albus sighed cheerfully, if that was even possible. "Ah. I was starting to worry at the delay." He said to Harry, "That would be the factor that does need the aforementioned explanation."

So saying, he got up, brushed his robes and offered an arm to Harry with a galant smile. Harry chuckled, linked their arms together and let himself be lead back into the cottage, ignoring Severus' moans of, "Oh, Merlin, Lupin! I can't watch this!", which Harry suspected was mostly for Lily's giggles. Ariana jumped into Aberforth's arms and James and Sirius each grabbed one of Remus' hands, to bodily pull him along. Remus didn't seem to mind.

Harry looked back at them. "I would have expected all the Marauder's to be the same age," said Harry to Lupin.

Albus snickered. "Of course you would figure it out, dear heart. I forget how intuitive you always were."

"Not quite all of it, though."

"This is the Afterlife," said Albus. Severus snorted and even Remus had to chuckle. "Well, yes, I supposed that was obvious." He winked at Harry. "It's said people get to spend the Afterlife with those they loved in Life. Well, I don't think there was that much lost love between Abby—," Aberforth growled at the nickname, much to Ariana's amusement. "—and Remus, so perhaps saying that one gets to spend Afterlife with one's Family would be more accurate."

"Some of us don't stop here long enough to go to their family, though," mumbled Severus.

Albus smiled encouragingly. "That's right. Some people . . . well, they move on right away, likely have Living people waiting for them. Others stay here for a while," he gestured at their little entourage, "healing old wounds, un-learning prejudices and shorcomings. It's hard work."

"That's why Snivellus is gonna stay here forever," chirped Sirius, while James giggled behind his sleeve.

"Why, you little cockroach—."

"Boys," admonished Remus, getting between Sirius and Severus.

Albus gave Harry a smug look, as they had just proven his point, which Harry supposed they had. "Others, however, are waiting for their better halves before moving on."

"To answer your question, Harry," said Lupin, "I suppose that if I hadn't met Dora, the four of us would indeed be the same age, perheps would have Moved On already. As it is, I'm one person short," he said with a cheerful smile.

Suddenly Albus said, "And some of us were never meant to be elsewhere." Harry glanced at him in surprise. Albus' smile was sad. "Some of us are meant to Guard lost souls and steer them to their rightful place. They come and go, but we stay."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Well, I suppose you might need some company then."

Albus stopped. "Yes," he said. "I suppose I might. Especially considering the new project I've been saddled with," he pointed out, steering Harry into a nursery to the right of the room Harry had woken in. "You might be the right person to help with that."

"He hasn't shut up since he arrived," said Lupin.

"Yeah, like a hundred years ago!" cried James and Sirius nodded seriously. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Times works differently here," explained Lupin at Harry's alarmed look.

Finally, Harry looked down. In the old wood coth, among white sheets and fluffy blankets, there was a baby; a baby boy, judging by the blues and greens in the blankets. There was a tuff of jet-black hair on his head and his teary eyes were the widest pair of pale-grey eyes Harry had ever seen. He looked comforted by Harry's simple presence.

"Oh, Merlin," gasped Harry, reaching into the cot to pick the baby up, and cuddle him against his chest. "Tom Riddle."

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of stories I set in the Afterlife is starting to worry me. -.-''


End file.
